A Terrible Time
by FlitShadowflame
Summary: Jack KNEW this would be a bad day. But just how bad, he'd never guess. Rated for violence, sexual situations, and severe language. Honestly, I think it should be fifteen and up. Heh, I can't even read this. COMPLETE.
1. A Bad Beginning, A Bad Day

A Bad Beginning, A Bad Day  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own newsies, and all that jazz. I own the plot, and all the fun little adventures they have. I also own Jack's intuitiveness. THAT IS SO A WORD. This story is eventually going to resemble something like good. I know this looked weird the first time I loaded it, so here goes the reload.  
  
***  
  
Jack had a feeling that today was not going to be a fun day.  
  
He was right.  
  
***  
  
"Heya Dave, how's it rollin'?" Jack asked one of his best friends: David Jacobs. Dave barely looked up, and winced when Jack pat his shoulder. Jack looked at Mush. Mush had a sudden haunted look in his eyes.  
  
**"Heya, John, how's it rollin'?" asked Francis Sullivan, age ten. His young Latvian friend Jonathon did not look up, and shied away from Francis's hands, fearing the pain from already bruised skin would be reawakened. "John? Whassamattah?"  
  
"Me da."**  
  
"Dave, what happened?" Jack asked tersely. Dave shook his head.  
  
"I'm not gonna talk about it," he said darkly, not raising his head. Jack knew what was going on--or at least, he had a very good guess--and he took David by the chin and yanked his face up into the light. The newsies hissed in sympathy.  
  
"Who?" Jack demanded an answer. "Who did it?"  
  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Dave said with a bitter laugh.  
  
"It was yer fathah, wasn' it, Mouth," Mush half-asked, half-stated.  
  
"..." Dave wasn't very vocal in his denouncing of Mush's theory.  
  
"Da Mouth havin' problems at home? I don' believe it. I knew it was gonna be a bad day, I jus' din't know how bad," Jack muttered. He walked up to Weasel and was about to pay for his papes when the man behind the counter called him something he hoped never to be called again.  
  
"Frankie, Mistah Pulitzah wants ta see ya," Weasel told him.  
  
"I got papes ta sell, Weas. Pulitzah can foind me on his toime, not mine. I have a job dat involves woik." Jack turned on his heel and walked away. "An' da name's JACK, Weas!" he shouted over one shoulder. The newsies snorted.  
  
***  
  
A/N: short, I know. I swear they'll get longer eventually. And for some odd reason, FFN does not want to give me my italics. The stuff in double asterisks (**) is a flashback, for future reference. And should I ever display a dream sequence, that will be in this little design *~*dream*~*. This story is going to get very confusing, since it's centering around Dave, Jack, Blink, and Mush and all their nasty little problems. Dysfunctional family alert, in a major way.  
  
--Chronicles 


	2. A Big Surprise

Chapter Two: A Big Surprise  
  
Jack sold his papers in utter silence. Dave had no idea how he did that, but he managed to sell without speaking a single word. He was totally focused, and made the most pitiful faces to attract attention, but Dave had no clue how he could sell without making a sound.  
  
"Jack?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Why did Pulitzer wanna talk to you?"  
  
Jack sighed. He really didn't want to answer that question. So he asked a question he knew Dave didn't want to answer either. "Why'd ya pop beat ya up?"  
  
"I take it you don't wanna answer my question so you're avoiding it. Tell me when you're ready, Jack. Just don't give me bullshit."  
  
Jack did not reply, he merely looked away and sold another pape silently.  
  
***Tibby's***  
  
By lunchtime, Jack and Dave had sold all their papes. And during the course of the meal, something happened that nearly gave the newsies a collective heart-attack. Pulitzer walked in the cheap, ditzy dive of a diner and grabbed Jack by the collar.  
  
"Come with me, boy, you're wasting my time," Pulitzer spat. He dragged Jack away by the scruff of his neck.  
  
"What da hell was dat about?" Blink asked when he tried to make sense of the situation. It didn't work. 2 + 2 = 5. No, that's not true! 2 + 2 = 3. That's a physical impossibility! Oh, I give up, 2 + 2 = x, and x is the square root of the doubled square root of sixty four! Or x is half the cube of two, however you prefer.  
  
Of course, Blink had dropped out of school in seventh grade, so he missed some algebra. But he understood a lot more than people thought.  
  
"Not a clue, Kid," Mush answered, digging in to his stew and washing it down with some soda.  
  
***The "World" Office Building***  
  
"Who da hell ya t'ink ya are, Joe, draggin' me away from a good meal like dat?" Jack demanded.  
  
"Jack Sullivan was released from prison under testimony from an anonymous minor. Am I expected to believe you had nothing to do with this?"  
  
"He was innocent!" Jack hissed. "YOU framed him, ya doity rotten tightwad!"  
  
"Jack Sullivan was in jail for a reason, but not the one on public record."  
  
"Oh yeah? What kinda "unofficial" reason was good 'nuff ta separate a man from 'is son, Joe?"  
  
"The very point is that you're not his son."  
  
Jack stared... "What da HELL?"  
  
"Jack Sullivan was married to a lovely little woman named Maria Kelly Sullivan, yes? Maria Kelly owed EVERYTHING to my father. I was much younger then. I may look like seventy, boy, but I'm only forty six. Immature, at twenty nine. Vilely fascinated with the unattainable."  
  
Jack did some mental math. Pulitzer was twenty nine when Jack was...oh God. "What da hell did ya do ta me mudder, ya sick freak?!" Jack shouted.  
  
"She was twenty four. Jack Sullivan was thirty six. But he loved her, God he loved her like nothing I'd ever seen. She was beautiful, your mother. More beautiful than sunrise on the most gorgeous summer day. Her smile could clear the grayest skies, her laugh could warm the coldest hearts."  
  
"Dat don't tell me nuttin' I didn't awready know," Jack sneered.  
  
"Keep your mouth shut, you filthy street rat," Pulitzer glared at the insolent youth before him. "Your mother would never fully belong to Jack Sullivan until she repaid all her debts to my father. She knew it. She also knew that if she did not pay those debts, Jack Sullivan would be killed. So she went on an errand one day and found my father. His idea of payment was intriguing to me, but not to Maria. She loathed every moment of that day, loathed returning home to her loving, loyal, faithful, God- fearing husband. She stayed in confessionals for an hour that Sunday. Nine months later, you were born, Francis Jackson Sullivan. Do the math, and get out of my office."  
  
Jack went pale, and ran out of that building. His eyes slid over faces he knew, but he did not stop. He could not see them. The only face he saw was that of Joseph Pulitzer. His *father*. PULITZER?!  
  
***  
  
A/N: single asterisk marks (*) mean something should be stressed. So, imagine that it's italicized. For me. Please.  
  
BTW: triple asterisk marks (***) either mean I'm talking to you, the reader, about something besides the story, or that time has passed in the story. It only takes a bit of reading to figure out which, but I know it's confusing.  
  
--Chronicles 


	3. Best Friends Till the End

In the Darkness  
  
*~*A little Latvian child looked up at his father, brown eyes wide. The belt came whistling down on his back, and he winced. "NO!"*~*  
  
"NO!" Mush shouted, lurching up in his bed, the top bunk between Snitch and Bumlets. Sighing in relief-thank god it was only a dream-he sank back down under his thin, tattered blanket. He said a few words in Latvian for good luck and good dreams, and fell into another fitful dream of his godforsaken family.  
  
***The Jacobs Residence***  
  
"I told you, you brat, you're to go-back-to-school!" Mr. Jacobs yelled, whipping David unmercifully with a belt. "If I get one more call-just ONE MORE-saying you've skipped class, you'll wish you'd never been BORN!"  
  
Dave shuddered, struggling to rise on limp knees. His father left him there with a disgusted noise. The newsboy crawled to bed, trying not to let the stiff, scratchy cotton blankets irritate his wounds.  
  
***The Lodging House***  
  
Jack couldn't sleep. Of course, if you had just found out that your father wasn't your father, it would probably keep you up late, too.  
  
Blink, two bunk beds over, was experiencing some insomnia as well, though not for the same reason. He hadn't been able to sleep comfortably since his sister was murdered the year before, with him watching the whole time- bound and gagged, helpless to stop the killing.  
  
And Mush, another two beds from Blink, had just woken up the third time from the nightmare of his father beating the crap out of him. This time he couldn't keep his yelp confined to a muffled whimper in his pillow. This time he screamed out loud.  
  
The only newsies awake, Blink and Jack, landed on the floor with a shocked thud. They hurried to their panicked friend.  
  
"Mush, calm down, it's jist a dream."  
  
"No it ain't. It's a mem'ry."  
  
"Mush, jist don't t'ink about 'im anymawh."  
  
"He's my FADDAH, Jack, I can't jus' ignawh 'is existence," Mush scowled. Blink clambered up on top of Mush's bed, hugging his knees like a small child. "Tell us 'gain 'bout yer fam'ly, Jack."  
  
Jack sighed. Then he forced a smile, and told the same old story-even though it was no longer true.  
  
"My muddah, Maria, she was da mos' beautiful goil in da woild. An' me faddah was a great man. An honest, hahd-woikin' citizen a' New Yoik City, an' dat's no improvement a' da truth. Dey was poifect fah each uddah. An' den when I came along, dey was da bes' parents ya coulda ast fawh." He looked at the two best friends, the girl-chasing duo. Blink and Mush. One was never without the other for long.  
  
They were fast asleep, side by side. Both wore tranquil smiles that told Jack they were dreaming of girls, girls, and more girls. Then Mush's broad grin rippled, and Blink's ruined eye twitched. Like twin brothers, they whined in unison as though they were puppies. Jack's heart cried out for him to do something, but his brain said there was nothing more to do.  
  
***  
  
A/N: short, and incredibly depressing. I know, I know, I'm TRYING to get it happy again, but ya gotta get woise 'fore ya c'n improve! Life without strife is like Egg Nog without Nutmeg!  
  
Oh, and if I have 3 asterisks (***) and then a place (Tibby's) and then 3 more asterisks, (***) I'm switching the narration to another location. You've probly figured that out, but just in case.  
  
--Chronicles 


	4. A Troubled Night

THANK YOU KORA! YOU'RE AWESOME! I LOVE YOU!  
  
Thank you to Spatz, klover, and Bottles, too!  
  
MORE STORY!  
  
Disclaimer: I think you've figured out I don't own the newsies. Good, you're smart!  
  
***  
  
Troubled Nights  
  
*~*"RUN!" Blink shouted. Mush shuddered in fear, paralyzed by the sight of his father. "MUSH, RUN FOR IT!"  
  
"You brat, you'll pay for what you've done! Don't-you-ever-run-away- again!" his father yelled, the hateful words punctuated by stinging blows.  
  
"Papa, no!" Mush whimpered. "Please, stop!"*~*  
  
A mere distance of three yards away, another nightmare was troubling one more innocent sleeper.  
  
*~*"BLINK, GET OUT OF HERE!" Lily screamed at her brother from her captor's arms. "Don't worry about me, get out!"  
  
"I ain't leavin' widout ya!" Blink yelled, starting for the man who would kill his sister. But he forgot about their uncle's paid thugs-two of which grabbed him by the arms and bound him in rope, gagging him faster than you can scream.  
  
"Well, *Blink* I suggest you close your eyes," the malicious murderer sneered, pulling out his knife and touching it to the screaming Lily's throat. "And now, my dear niece, you die," he growled, and jerked the knife across her neck, slitting her throat in one quick motion.  
  
Tears streamed down Blink's face as his uncle let Lily's body drop lifelessly to the ground. "And as for you, my dashing nephew, it's your turn. But first. . ." With a vicious jab, the knife stabbed out Blink's eye. (A/N: Blink was already nicknamed by his sister for some strange reason. . . don't worry too much about it.) Blink screamed in pain through the gag.  
  
*Don't let this be my end, at the hand of my sister's murderer. Please god, don't let the blood fall twice as heavily in this accursed place.*  
  
"And now, it is your turn to die."*~*  
  
Jack left the boys in their nightmares with deep regret, but there was nothing he could do. So he climbed into his own bunk and fell into his own uncertain dreams.  
  
*~*"Hello?" he called out. It was dark, all so dark-shadowy figures approaching with caution, approaching in long, stalking strides.  
  
"My son," his mother whispered, stroking his face gently. Jack looked at her mournfully. SLAP!  
  
Jack's face contorted in confusion. Another resounding blow landed on his cheek.*~*  
  
"Ow, what da hell was dat fawh!?" Jack shouted, jolting awake. Race was sitting on his chest, hand ready for another hit.  
  
"Jeez, I t'ought ya'd nevah wake up. C'mon, we got papes ta sell."  
  
***  
  
Jack sold with a bruised and battered David Jacobs. Les was nowhere in sight. "Jack. I can't-if I come back tomorrow; and my dad hears about it, I'm dead meat. I have to stop selling. I'm not supposed to be here today, but hopefully they won't notice if I'm late. I *have* to stop selling."  
  
"No. Yer dad will find some uddah reason ta beat ya up. Dey always do. You an' yer bruddah-does 'e hit Les?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Does 'e seem ta favah Les an' Sarah-besides da abuse, I mean? Does he act nice to 'em?"  
  
"Not anymore. Well, he's ok to Sarah."  
  
"Den you an' Les are comin' wid us-an' yer stayin' at da lodgin' house."  
  
And that was that. One problem solved, for the moment, anyway.  
  
***  
  
Mush and Blink sold together that day, yawning behind their hands to hide tiredness. They ignored the dark circles under each other's eyes, pretending nothing was wrong. Around eleven, wearing his perfected fake smile, Mush sold a paper to what seemed to be merely a Latvian immigrant with some interesting apparel, colored scarves, no shirt, and an embroidered vest. (A/N: We're going to pretend that's what gypsies look like.) Then Mush locked eyes with the stranger that was no longer a stranger.  
  
He felt like he was sweating bullets, but he pulled off an indifferent expression. *Thanks for the poker lessons Race!* he thought to himself as he turned to walk away.  
  
"Hei, smalk?da!" the Latvian said. "Hey, kid!" Mush made the mistake of his life.  
  
"Ko tu, velns par?vis, gribi?" he whispered fearfully. "What the hell do you want?"  
  
"I knew it," the man said. Mush ran as fast as he could, dropping the remainder of his papers. "Es to izg?zt tu, viltots!" his father yelled. "I will kill you, bastard!"  
  
"Nieki!" (shit) Mush shouted, feet pounding the ground. Old Latvian women gasped at his atrocious language.  
  
Mush was one of the five fastest newsies in NYC, but his father was practically an Olympic runner-it was from him that Mush got his athleticism and limberness. Mush hadn't been running for fifteen minutes before his father caught up and tackled him, dragged him into an alley, and beat the crap out of him with a belt. Then he slung the unconscious young man over his back and hauled him to a tenement building.  
  
Fading in and out of awareness, Mush wondered if he would survive the night.  
  
***  
  
It's getting longer. Slowly. Very slowly. My Latvian is non-existent, so anyone who speaks it, forgive me. I'm using a translator site, so I can't be sure how exact the translation is. Also, I chose Latvian because it is cool!  
  
Keep on reading --Chronicles Bailey 


	5. Not Again!

Ok, I'm not updating the last chapter again. So ignore the bit about it getting longer, it might, it might not. Still working on it all.  
  
Thanks again to Kora. Kudos to Kora!  
  
I have no idea what Kudos means. Oh well. MORE STORY!  
  
***  
  
Not Again  
  
Blink was lost in his thoughts as he sold papers absently. He didn't notice an unfamiliar man approach his best friend and chase him to his certain doom. He noticed a familiar, hated face and began making his escape. *Please don't let him catch me, please don't let him see me,* he prayed silently.  
  
"Ah.Alexander "Blink" Jacobs," Mayer grinned. "Now I can kill you like I planned to kill my son, and the way I killed your sister those years ago."  
  
"Yer son?" Blink asked, backing away.  
  
"You probably know him as.David." Blink turned and ran like the devil was on his heels which, in retrospect, made sense.  
  
He happened by where Cowboy and Mouth were selling, and yelled in passing, "Ya might wanna run, Davey!" Dave looked confused until he saw his father chasing Blink from a distance, and he took off. Jack grabbed Les and ran to Irving Hall with the kid in his arms.  
  
***  
  
*Dramatic music* the plot-THICKENS.  
  
***  
  
Now, it might seem hard to believe that Mayer Jacobs can outrun two teenage boys who had lived lives of hard work. But some sort of fury spurred him on and he was soon close enough to the boys the grab their collars and haul them to the Refuge. And as much as it pains me to write it, sweet Mr. Jacobs was in league with Snyder-Blink was a fugitive, and Snyder wouldn't pass up an option for another orphan paying him off-Dave, namely.  
  
Once their father/uncle finished beating them to death, they were to be imprisoned until the age of twenty-one. And that is about as encouraging a thought as the harbinger of a malignant cancer.  
  
Snyder even had a few of his crooked cops help chain the newsies to a wall, and gave Mayer the generous loan of a whip-a cat o' nine tails, a nine- thonged lash. With one stroke, they were shuddering in pain. When he'd finished for the night, at twenty, they were cracking.  
  
Shirts flayed to bits, they were erect only because of the taught chains, and once cut free, they collapsed like puppets with cut strings.  
  
It took four men two trips to haul them into the cell of a bunkroom they shared with twelve others.  
  
Blink was the first to move, groaning in a cracked voice and spitting up blood in a pail. His back was on fire with the pain from the cat, and he could barely stand the thought of Mayer's promised week of this much torture.  
  
"What the hell happened?" one bold inmate whispered. Then a groggy and disoriented Kid Blink noticed the crowd surrounding him and his cousin.  
  
"Blink?" Ten-Pin asked. "Ain't you one a' Jack's newsies?"  
  
Blink managed to croak a "no shit, Sherlock," before collapsing in unconsciousness. Dave woke half an hour later or so, spat up a good liter of blood, and blacked out again.  
  
***  
  
Happy little thing isn't it?  
  
***  
  
Mush woke up aching in a distantly familiar place. "John!" someone cried out happily. He turned and a little girl ran up and hugged him. "I missed you, big brother!" He turned the embrace be reflex, wincing when she touched his back. "What happened?"  
  
"Nothin' Em. Jus' got in a fight, dat's awl."  
  
"Oh. Well, now that you're here, are you going to do it?"  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Don't you remember? When you left, you were supposed to marry Rivka. Well, Rivka died a few years ago, but their shared father is offering her sister Rakael-half-sister, the girl's part Cuban. Dad says you're supposed to marry her."  
  
"Excuse me while I go talk to dad," Mush said, grimacing as he sat up. His father found him immediately.  
  
"Son, you need to rest," he grinned falsely.  
  
"What's this about marriage?"  
  
***  
  
ooooh, cliffy!!! I'm horrible. I've updated every chapter, even if it's just a little. Mush is officially Latvian, because it is the coolest language ever and I'm too lazy to change all my quotes.  
  
I LOVE YOU ALL, MY DEAR READERS!  
  
Kora-thanks for telling me about kudos. That's just an awesome word. I'm the slightest bit crazy today, so ignore my insanity. 


	6. Oh, Jesus

Kora-I read your story, and it's great! But my computer doesn't let me review anymore, so I'm stuck telling you about it here. *Cackles.* Now, to have some fun with Davey.  
  
***  
  
Oh, Jesus  
  
David shuddered in pain, grinding his teeth. It was morning of their second day, and Mayer stayed more than twice as long. Fifty lashings with the cat, and when he found Blink's cigarettes. . .  
  
It got ugly.  
  
Again, they were weak as newborn kittens when they were finally carried back to the dorm, where Ten-pin and the others cared for their wounds, cleaning them as best they could with their rags of clothes. Just when they were gaining strength enough to eat, around five o'clock, Mayer came back for a quick ten before his own dinner.  
  
God, they hated him.  
  
***  
  
"What da FUCK do you mean, I hafta marry 'er!? I don't even KNOW dis Rakael goil!" Mush demanded angrily.  
  
"Then it's about time you met," his father grinned maliciously. He left, locking the door to Mush's cell of a bedroom.  
  
After an hour or two, he returned leading a short, but pretty, Hispanic girl. He left them to "get to know each other." "Flit Rogahs-Rakael. You mus' be da "John" kid I'se s'posed ta marry," she said, looking bored. "I'se nevah dated anyone longah dan a week. If you'se last a month, I'll give ya a shot."  
  
Mush sighed. "Me name's Mush, fah one, an' fah two, I don't wanna marry anybody right now. I was dragged back heah by me faddah yestahday, an' now 'e tells me I'se engaged awready an'-Oh, Jesus, dis is messed up."  
  
Flit grinned. "Jesus? But yer Latvian."  
  
"So?"  
  
"All the Latvian immigrants I know are Jewish."  
  
"I convoited when I hoid what dey'se gonna do ta me. . ." Mush trailed off. Flit laughed outright.  
  
"I'se Cath, anyways, so what're you'se?"  
  
"Roman Cath, like Racetrack-a friend a mine, 'e took me ta choich when I became a newsie. I'se loinin' Latin from 'im an' Specs, who went ta High School 'til tenth grade, jus' dropped out las' yeah ta be a newsie." They paused awkwardly.  
  
"Do ya sing at yer choich?" she asked suddenly.  
  
"Yeah, mos'ly in Latin."  
  
"Can ya sing any fawh me?"  
  
"Panis angélicus  
  
Fit panis hóminum,  
  
Dat panis coélicus  
  
Figúris términum.  
  
O res mirábilis:  
  
Mandúcat Dóminum  
  
Pauper, servus  
  
et húmilis. Te, trina Déitas  
  
Unaque, póscimus,  
  
Sic nos tu vísita,  
  
Sicut te cólimus,  
  
Per Tuas sémitas  
  
Duc nos quo téndimus,  
  
Ad lucem quam inhábitas," he sang quietly.  
  
"What does it mean?"  
  
"I don't know it all yet-like I said, I'm still learning Latin."  
  
"I'se startin' t' get hungry," she muttered, and headed to the door. She tried the knob. "It's stuck!"  
  
"Locked is more like it. Me faddah don' wan' me runnin' away again," he said darkly. "Heah, why don' we make 'im regret dat decision? 'e locked us in heah, gawd knows 'e's askin' fawh it."  
  
Flit looked at him sideways. "Whaddaya mean?"  
  
"You a voigin?"  
  
"Why I oughta!" she began indignantly. He looked at her. "No."  
  
"Den it don't mattah nomawh. C'mon, Flit, let's 'ave some fun."  
  
"I met you fifteen minutes ago."  
  
"I'se shallow, you'se a pretty face, what can I say? Love at foist sight, we ain't got time ta waste. C'mon, Flit. Doncha want some?"  
  
Flit looked at him in disbelief-how the hell had the conversation come to this? She was quite uncomfortable discussing sex with a top-nude boy who had the sexiest chest she had ever seen. She gave in to hormones this time and sat on his bed shyly, awkwardly.  
  
"I don' bite unless ya wan' me ta," Mush murmured softly. He kissed her gently, sucking on her lips and tasting her thoroughly. Flit groaned; he was too polite. Then he put his hands in her shirt and she started getting interested. She stroked his fabulous chest while Mush helped her out of her shirt. Yeah. Helped. Meaning ripped off in a flurry of passionate kisses.  
  
They took their time with the rest, rolling around on the bed half naked and kissing wildly before taking off each other's pants.  
  
You know the rest.  
  
***  
  
Kinda kinky little sex scene, but what're ya gonna do? I'm barely a teenager, it isn't like I've had that much experience sexually.  
  
--Chronicles 


	7. While You Were Sleeping

"While You Were Sleeping"  
  
While Mush was having tons of fun, Blink was groaning in pain. He saw a flash of red and glanced up. A fiery, green-eyed redhead was looking at him in concern.  
  
"What did dey do to ya?" she inquired anxiously.  
  
"Lent me uncle a whip," he grimaced. "What's yer name?"  
  
"Irish. An' you?"  
  
"Kid Blink," he winced, trying to get comfortable. Irish climbed up in his bunk and let him lay down his head in her lap. "T'anks," he murmured, already falling asleep.  
  
"Yer welcome," she whispered to his unconscious form.  
  
Ok, so maybe Blink wasn't so miserable either.  
  
***  
  
David woke up to a cool cloth on his forehead. The first thing he saw was a pair of angel blue eyes. "I think I'm in heaven," he murmured.  
  
"Nah, ya ain't dead yet. Though if dey keeps on like dis, I wouldn't be surprised if ya kick da bucket in a week or less."  
  
"That's an encouraging thought," Dave drawled humorlessly. "I couldn't be more excited about dying by my father's whip. So, when'd you get here, and why are you taking care of me?"  
  
"I got heah las' night, an' you'se 'ad a fevah. So I'se doin' what I knows best-takin' care a' sick kids. I was a noise-in-trainin' when dey caught me."  
  
"What'd you do? To get arrested, I mean."  
  
"Stole some food, since da clinic I woiked at didn't 'ave enough money fah da kids."  
  
"Oh. That's too bad."  
  
"Yeah, but it's aiight. 'Cause when dey t'rew me in heah, I met you'se. Did anyone evah tell ya yer eyes are charming blue?"  
  
"Did anyone ever tell you that you look like an angel?"  
  
Ok, it looks like nobody's miserable anymore. Ah, better check on Jack.  
  
***  
  
Jack sat on his bunk in the lodging house, wallowing in guilt. David, Blink, and Mush had been missing for three days. He knew Mayer had David and Blink, but he didn't know where-he'd already checked the Jacobs' house, and while Mayer looked suspicious, he knew his friends weren't there.  
  
But where the fuck was Mush?  
  
***  
  
well, he's fucking, to be exact. Sry, couldn't resist. --Chronicles  
  
***  
  
Racetrack walked in, eyes red from - crying? But. . . Racetrack never cried. . .  
  
iI hope Mush an' Blink knows what dey'se doin' ta deir friends./i  
  
***  
  
ok, Jack's still depressed and that was only seven new sentences. Oh well. I'm lazy.  
  
--Chronicles Bailey 


	8. A Time to Run, A Time to Fight

A/N: I got rid of the accents on the Latvian because ff.net just turned them into question marks.  
  
***  
  
"A Time to Run, A Time to Fight"  
  
There is a time to run  
  
And a time to fight  
  
A time to live  
  
And a time to die  
  
A time to hate  
  
And a time to love  
  
And a time to get the fuck away from here. * "RUN!" Mush yelled. The door had opened. He and Flit rushed past his startled father, grabbed his little sister Emma, and ran as fast as they could.  
  
"Tu DALA aiz NIEKI! (You PIECE of SHIT) Come back here you bastard!"  
  
"I don't think you really want to get into mom's love life!" Mush hollered back without turning.  
  
"Tu nevertigs dala aiz nieki, Es to izgazt tu!" (You worthless piece of shit, I will kill you!)  
  
Mush burst forward with his last reserves of strength, running full out. Flit, beside him, wasn't breaking a sweat-I guess they don't call her Flit for nothing. They darted into an alley and climbed a fire escape, fleeing across rooftops and leaping from building to building. Finally, after a full ten minutes of dodging laundry lines and chimneys, they had outrun the seemingly relentless pursuer and ended their high-speed chase with Flit being clotheslined by, well, a clothes-line.  
  
"Johnny, why are we running?" Emma asked, highly confused by the tumultuous events of the day.  
  
"'Cause daddy's a bad man an' we don't need dat kinda faddah. Sometimes it ain't as easy as stickin' it out, 'cause sometimes ya ain't gonna make it through stickin' it out. Dis was jist a time ta run."  
  
***  
  
Blink and David were hanging miserably from the wrist, facing the ugly gray walls of the House of Refuge. "Shit, what I wouldn't give fah some li'l scraps a' metal," Blink muttered. David heard.  
  
"What? Why do you want little pieces of metal?"  
  
"Ta pick da locks, dumb ass," Blink rolled his eyes. David could get so irritating. To think, this was his COUSIN.  
  
"Well, Angel left these on my shirt when she fixed me up. . ." Dave began, holding two hairpins in his shackled hand. Blink blinked, believe it or not.  
  
"David. Why da hell are you'se such a dumb ass? Gimme dose," Blink said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"They're Angel's! You can't just take them and. . ."  
  
"Too late." Somehow, Blink had managed to grab the hairpins. In ten seconds flat, his hands were free and he was working on David's chains.  
  
***  
  
it's not much, but it's better than nothing. I'm not done yet. It may seem like they're gonna get off light, but don't count on it. New Chappie coming soon!!  
  
CTB, --Chronicles Bailey 


	9. Runnin'

A/N: FINALLY, chapter nine for you beloved readers of mine. I love you all!!! Kora is definitely my favorite, but Brooklyn's up there, and the rest of you are still great!!  
  
Ok, the first bit is pure fluff, but who cares?!  
  
--Chronicles Bailey  
  
***  
  
"Runnin'"  
  
Mush and Flit walked to the lodging house, Mush carrying Emma. "So why did we do.what we did?" Flit asked him, still confused on the events of the day.  
  
"Well, we did what we did dat night 'cause, like I'se said, I'se shallow an' you'se a pretty face. 'Sides, I was lonely," he grinned, giving her a light kiss on the lips. "Den we escaped because my faddah's a bastahd."  
  
"Makes sense to me," she murmured, and kissed Mush.  
  
"Ewww!" Emma said, wrinkling her little nose.  
  
"Some uddah time," Mush said uncomfortably. "Obviously my sistah ain't happy," he laughed, tickling Emma as she squealed in giggles.  
  
"It looks like rain," Flit said, and as if to prove her correct, a fat drop of water landed on Mush's nose when he looked up.  
  
"Yeah. . . feels like it, too." They went inside the lodging house.  
  
***pure fluff, what'd I tell ya? --Chronicles Bailey***  
  
"C'mon Dave, it ain't like some rain's gonna kill ya," Blink rolled his eyes, walking through the downpour as if it were nothing.  
  
"Yeah, but monsoons will!" Dave whined.  
  
"I don't even know what the fuck a monsoon is, now will ya shut up an' MOVE?" Blink demanded, speeding up so Dave would be forced to move faster. Blink knew his way around Manhattan in crowds, night, rain, or snow, but Dave. . . Dave didn't have much sense of direction.  
  
***  
  
Jack looked out the window miserably. "Wheah AH dey?" he wondered aloud. Even as he said it, he saw forms in the rain, making their way inside. He heard voices on the roof and footsteps on the stairs.  
  
"C'mon Flit, you'se c'n meet me friends, dey'll love ya, trust me." That was Mush. He knew the voices of his newsies like he knew his own. He heard the sound of tender kisses, and knew Mush had found a girl. The girl entered first-she was about 5'4", with brown hair and a Hispanic look to her. Mush had his around her and was carrying a smaller girl, who looked to be five or six years old.  
  
"New goil?" Jack asked, getting down from his bunk. His eyes burned with fury at the thought of Mush getting him worried sick because of a pretty face.  
  
"Dis is my sistah, Emma. An' dat's Flit," Mush said. "My faddah found me. I had ta get Em out."  
  
Jack nodded, no longer angry.  
  
"Dave, I can't believe you'se still pissed about dat Angel t'ing. Lissen, if dose haihpins meant so much to 'er, why didn't she realize she left 'em on you'se, huh? If we see 'er again, we'll give 'em back, 'til then, she oughta consoled by da fact dat 'er jewelry helped us escape. Now will ya quit whinin'?"  
  
Jack grinned. Blink quickly tired of loudmouths-all loudmouths, that is, except himself.  
  
Mush's face brightened considerably at the sound of his best friend's voice, and his wide smile grew broader when Blink entered the room, clearly annoyed by David's nagging.  
  
"Well Blink, I hafta say I t'ink Mush made out bettah den you'se-comin' home wid a goil instead a' Dave."  
  
David and Blink glared at Jack, and you could almost see the family resemblance. . . except Blink was way hotter. . .  
  
***  
  
I have to go.  
  
--CB 


	10. Back at the Refuge

"Back in the Refuge"  
  
Irish sighed dejectedly and flopped back on her bunk. Ever since Blink and Dave escaped the night before, she and Angel hadn't left the "dorms" - prison bunkrooms. Angel sighed, equally depressed.  
  
"Where could dey BE? How did dey escape? Why didn't dey take us wid 'em?" they wondered.  
  
"'s no use. We'se bustin' out, and we'se gonna find 'em, an' dere's nuthin' anyone can do t' stop us," Irish said, burning with fury that she had been neglected.  
  
They never told a soul how they got out, but it involved a very unfaithful [and married] guard and the feminine wiles of two very desperate girls. (A/N: in other words, I couldn't think of a logical way for them to escape, so . . .)  
  
"I swear t' Gawd, if I evah hafta do dat again, I'se gonna kill da bastahd who receives," Irish scowled, wiping her lips and spitting - trying to get the foul taste out of her mouth.  
  
Angel shuddered. "I hate men like dat - who'll cheat on theiah woives outta spite."  
  
"Fortunately, his wife is gonna be pissed at 'im anyway," Irish smirked.  
  
"Why's dat?"  
  
Irish gave no answer, she merely held up a small, glittering, golden piece of jewelry.  
  
"You stole 'is WEDDIN' ring?" Angel asked incredulously. Irish beamed.  
  
"A small revenge."  
  
Angel shook her head, grinning. "You'se truly original, Hattie B. Strange."  
  
***  
  
It was raining hard, but the two hadn't found anywhere to stay yet. "Damn, I can't see me 'and in fronta me face," Irish scowled. As though to prove her point, she slammed into something hard and wooden. "What the hell? A door?" She grabbed for the knob - it was unlocked. "Ang, I think I found a place."  
  
Angel followed Irish's voice and grabbed the soaked redhead's arm. "Let's go in then, I'm wet and freezing!"  
  
"Who's there?" a rough, boyish voice called out.  
  
Irish and Angel decided that at least they'd be warmer and drier inside. They entered the doorway cautiously, blinking at the bright crackling light from the lamps and fireplace. "I'm Irish, an' dat's Angel."  
  
"Specs. Dis is da Newsboys' Lodgin' House - ya need a place ta stay, am I right?" he asked mildly. They nodded. "We got some empty bunks. Hey, Jackie-boy, some very wet Refuge girls!" Specs yelled up the stairs.  
  
"How'd you -"  
  
"Ya got da look."  
  
"Hello, what c'n we do fah you'se two ladies?" a young man dressed like a cowboy asked. "Jack Kelly, commonly known as Cowboy or Jackie-boy - dependin' on who yer talkin' to."  
  
"Irish Strange. Dat's Angel Woods."  
  
"Irish?!" Two voices called out. One was that of a young man in an eye patch, the other belonged to a dark-skinned girl.  
  
"Blink? FLIT?" Irish got a friendly embrace from the girl and a firm hug from Blink. "What're you two doin' heah?"  
  
"I live heah," Blink smirked, his face still bruised and scarred from his last beating.  
  
"I came wid me boy Mush - how do ya know Blink?"  
  
"I met Blink in da Refuge. Blink, I met Flit heah a long time ago, in da Hahlem orphanage."  
  
"NO WAY! St. Petahs?" Blink asked. Flit and Irish nodded, confused. "Christ, I was deah!" Flit scrutinized him, flipping up his eye patch.  
  
"Alex?"  
  
***  
  
A/N: MUHUHUHUWAHAHAHAHA! CLIFF HANGER! I AM THE TRUE SATANIC ONE! (snicker.) Anywho. It's really not that bad, I've seen some pretty hoked up cliffies. Mid-sentence kinda stuff. Unpleasant.  
  
--Chronicles Bailey 


	11. Nurse Mary Gets Her Kicks

Dude. I haven't written in forever. Bekka, when you read this-if you read this-what's your pen name? You have a story here? Link me, I demand!  
  
***  
  
"Rakael-damn it's been f'revah! When'd ya get outta da hellhole?"  
  
"When me faddah finally acknowledged my existence a few years ago an' told me I'd be marryin' some guy I'd nevah met. Who didn't toin out ta be dat bad, actually, but dat's beside da point. You got out long 'fore dat- you'se what, ten?"  
  
"Nine. It was easy 'nough t' run away, da main reason mos' don't do it is it's hahd t' live in da real woild. Buyin' food an' places t' sleep an' da like. Not as simple as it sounds."  
  
"Yeah, but I awready knew dat from my 'escapade' as da nuns put it."  
  
Blink and Irish burst out laughing at the memory, which got the newsies-who had gathered around over the course of their 'reunion'-curious about the story.  
  
"So what 'appened?" Mush asked.  
  
"Well, it ain't as funny livin' it as remembrin' it. I was about nine, dis was a couple days b'foah Blink left. Well, I got lawst-in Hahlem. Needless ta say, dat ain't da bes' place ta be at night. Also unnecessarily said, deah's some shady figures out deah.  
  
"So I was poitty defensive, I mean, wha'd ya expect? I was a goil, alone, an' poitty smawl. I was coiwled up in an alley, an' I see dis tawl poy'sn come up an' these 'ands reach out'n grab me-I kicks 'em in da face an' who should it be but noise Mary-da uptight, prissy animal 'oo runs da infoimahry an's awlways onta us t'ree 'bout grammah. She NEVAH lef' me 'lone aftah dat."  
  
Blink and Irish were still laughing at the retelling, and some of the other kids chuckled quietly to themselves too.  
  
"Hey Angel, Irish, you two stayin' heah?" Cowboy asked after a momentary lull in conversation.  
  
"Shoah," Irish shrugged.  
  
"I dunno, uhm . . . sure."  
  
"Good, den dat's settled. Ev'ryone happy? Awl da impoitant people got goils? Can we end this fic now?"  
  
Shut up Jack. But yes. We can.  
  
*~*Goodbye*~*  
  
"WAIT! WHAT ABOUT ME!?" Jack exclaimed.  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I don't got a goil!"  
  
*Screams in frustration.* "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THIS EARLIER?!" *Pounds Jack into a bloody pulp.*  
  
A/N: Looks like it's not as done as I wanted. Damn. I'll probably have another chapter or two.  
  
--Chronicles Bailey  
  
(P.S. I write too many stories. If I get lots of reviews on stories, I add more. Right now, this story has roughly 3.9 reviews per chapter. Obviously my one chapter stories have whatever their number is. The poem fic has 6, but no one really likes it, and it's pretty much through anyway. Aside from that . . .  
  
BONS (Memphis Black-Out Newsies Style) - 1 (but I HAD four more chapters written anyway. Then the disk was eaten by my locker.)  
  
RR - 2.83333333333333333333  
  
UA - 3.461538 (it repeats that forever and ever and ever) [second place]  
  
ATT - 3.81 (first place)  
  
Irish Luck - 3  
  
BoaDM - 2  
  
SSotM - 3  
  
Snoddy fic - 3.142857142857142857 etc.  
  
Then the poem. REVIEW. MORE! 


	12. The Dark Haired Giggler and Orphanages

I know better than anyone else that this update has been too long in coming. My readers and friends are beginning to mob me. So, here goes Chapter Twelve. Don't kill me.  
  
***  
  
"Angie. . . Angie. Wake up," David smiled. For once, he looked charming almost. He had a childlike quality that reminded the half-awake girl of his younger brother, Les. This lent him a cuteness unprecedented. She could not help but smile.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You have to come an' meet Emmie."  
  
"Oh? Da one ya been seein' behind my back fah da past two months?"  
  
"I have not been seein' her. She's jist a friend, an' I think Cowboy likes her." Yes, you read that right. Dave had finally gotten an accent.  
  
"Cowboy desoives a goil. He's depressin'."  
  
"He is."  
  
They left arm-in-arm, Angel leaning her head on David's shoulder. The young man was nearly six feet tall now, if not past that.  
  
"David! This must be the infamous Angel," the pale, dark-haired girl giggled. She was neither short nor tall, but was quite thin and wraith- like. Age indeterminable. Shelby scrutinized the smaller female, wondering if she was good enough for the suntanned, good-natured Cowboy with so much fiery passion in his soul.  
  
So much fiery passion that no one had seen in over a year since the strike was won.  
  
"We going to see Jack again today? He was so sweet when you showed me to him, David. I want to see him again."  
  
"Good. He'll be here in a few minutes. Unless he's late . . . again. . ."  
  
There was a loud whooping and the thunder of hooves behind them, and a large brown horse galloped in the streets, nimbly dodging pedestrians at the skilled guidance of its rider. "Hiya Davey," the tall, dark, and handsome cowboy barked as he dismounted with a flourish, sweeping off the black, wide-rim hat. "Whaddaya heah, whaddaya say? Angie, howya doin'? Emily, good ta see ya 'gain," he smiled broadly, in what can only be described as grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"Jack!" Emily cried joyously. David and Angel looked at each other in amusement. The buoyant nature of the two brought them together naturally.  
  
Jack engulfed the smaller girl in a hug that should have shattered her spine. She returned the embrace with equal fierceness. There was a whispered exchange the less exuberant couple didn't catch.  
  
"Think we should tell them?"  
  
"You want to?"  
  
"Don't like hiding."  
  
"Me neither."  
  
"Lissen, I gotta tell you'se two da truth. I'se been seein' Emmie fah 'bout fouah months."  
  
"How did ya even know each othah?" Angel asked in wonder.  
  
"Orphanage. Known Emmie a long time. When my faddah was arrested, my bruddah'n sistah'n me were shoved aside. They got adopted pretty quick; they were cute an' on'y six. I was ten. I got out a' da orphanage aftah 'bout two yeahs, had made friends wid Emmie durin' da stay. Stole food, got in da Refuge, escaped from da Refuge, joined wid da newsies, ya know da rest. About five months ago, I went back ta da orphanage. I told 'er I would, I come once a yeah every yeah, da same day I escaped. She tol' me she wanted outta deah, I got in contact with some friends who could take cahe of 'er, den we stahted datin'. Not much deah."  
  
"So. . ." Dave began, and trailed off. "Maybe we oughta leave you two alone, eh?" He grabbed Angel's arm and they went to God-knows-where to do things that made sailors blush. Jack and Emily laughed heartily, shaking their heads in amusement.  
  
"What say you we find ouahselves a nice, empty room?"  
  
***  
  
I think I'll leave it as that for a bit. 


	13. New Assistants and Jaded Angels

I just found out I'm leading my readers on! *Titters* Thanks to all my reviewers, I can never love you enough! Maybe it didn't come off really clearly in the last chapter, but it's been a year since the strike, Dave has had a big growth spurt, and Jack is no longer a newsie. Read on for details! (Some more time has passed, because I'm lazy.)  
  
***  
  
"Hey Kelly, I want that story on my desk by noon!"  
  
"I can't help it, Denton! I need an assistant who gives me better notes than, 'They won.' Good God, where did you FIND this inept little shit?"  
  
"That 'inept little shit,' as you so delicately put it, is a top graduate of the most recent class from the University. I suggest you restrain more such comments so his father, a very prestigious lawyer, does not hunt you down for unfair treatment of employees."  
  
"That's what unions are for."  
  
"This coming from Jack Kelly," Denton rolled his eyes. "If the information is so lacking, go out there and find the source. I don't have time to interview and hire you a new assistant."  
  
"How about you hire my fiancée?" he asked, scribbling furiously.  
  
"Well when you - whoa. Back up. Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Jack grinned wolfishly. "Proposed last night; it was the one year anniversary of our first date. Now, will you hire her, or do I have to find someone really unreliable, fire them, find someone else, fire them . . . I just don't want to waste your time or money on someone who won't last."  
  
"Sure. Bring her in for an interview tomorrow. But right now, go get that story, you brat!"  
  
Jack ducked a rolled up newspaper and shoved his hat on his head. "Time to brave fall traffic."  
  
***Two Months Earlier, Harlem***  
  
"Flit, baby?" Mush inquired between soft kisses.  
  
"Yeah, luv?"  
  
"Marry me," he smiled a light half-smile.  
  
"Gladly. When?"  
  
"Whenever you want to."  
  
Both young Latvians were still half-asleep and didn't remember they were already "engaged" for their fathers' sake. They drifted slowly into a land of happy dreams, Flit secure in Mush's arms, Mush content to hold the young woman.  
  
***  
  
Now wasn't that the sweetest thing you ever saw?  
  
***  
  
"Davey, where're we goin'?" Angel demanded huffily of her boyfriend.  
  
"Hush, you'll see in a sec. Trus' me, you'll love dis."  
  
"Doubtful."  
  
David chuckled slightly, hands still covering the girl's eyes. "I certainly hope ya like it."  
  
He pulled her to a blanket, lifting off her feet and setting her down gently. "Central Park? Pretty, but I've seen it before."  
  
"You'se so jaded," he laughed. "No. The park, while lovely, is not what I wanted to show you, my Angel." He descended to one knee. "From the moment I lay my delirious eyes on your cerulean gaze, I knew I was in love. You grow more beautiful, more fitting for you name, every day I see you. I never want to wake up without you there. Would you do me the utmost honor of being my wife, allow me to father your children and pay our bills?"  
  
She brought a hand to her shocked, open mouth. "David . . . oh my Lord." Her face broke into a wide, unabashed grin. "I love you. And every day that passes, the sensation in my heart grows ever stronger. I would feel not just honored, but privileged, to be you lawfully, eternal wife. So long as you promise not to lie to me as long as we live."  
  
"Never shall such fell words pass my lips in your presence."  
  
"Then I will marry you, and follow you to the ends of the earth."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I know."  
  
***  
  
Or was THAT the cutest thing you ever read?  
  
I thought about having a wild and crazy Irish/Blink sex scene, but it doesn't suit the mood. Although. . . Irish would enjoy it. 


	14. I Bid You

Chapter Fourteen: The End  
  
There was a whimper. And a moan. Blink inhaled deeply, twirling red locks absently about his fingers. Irish's lips traversed his face.  
  
"Baby . . . marry me?" Blink asked, catching her mouth for an instant.  
  
There was another whimper. "Kay."  
  
***  
  
~Looking back, I suppose it was that terrible day that really started the best part of my life. It was then that I transcended into adulthood, leaving my childish adventures. Even my less-childish crusade against the aristocratic fat-cats who oppressed my people.  
  
I found the love of my life - again - and watched my friends grow up and get married. Even Blink and Mush, the ladies' men. Even Dave, who talked too much for his own good sometimes. Ah, here's Emily. I bid you adieu.  
  
--Jack Kelly~  
  
*~*^*~*The End*~*^*~*  
  
THERE. I resign from this story, let it be well-read and well-liked. I love you all, reviewers! I bid you adieu as well!  
  
--Chronicles Bailey 


End file.
